


A Beginning in an End

by Fledgling



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: For Legitsuperion, Human AU, M/M, Silverbolt as a Valkyrie yes pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-24 15:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3774601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fledgling/pseuds/Fledgling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyfire has devoted his life to healing the injured and ill. Ironic that he should die to a gut wound, something he's treated more times than he can remember. And what should carry him off to the heavens but the prettiest angel he's ever seen? Of course, appearances aren't always what they seem...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beginning in an End

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Legitsuperion! She wanted either medieval AU or Silverbolt with wings AU, so I smushed them together (I hope it turned out ok OTL).

_The sky is so pretty today._  
Skyfire smiled sadly as he watched the clouds drift through the sky. One of the few really nice days of the year. Not a bad place to slowly bleed out. Skyfire closed his eyes and sighed. _I suppose this is what I get for actually picking up a sword._ He struggled to open his eyes again and observed the hillside he was on. The battle had moved from eyesight, but he could still hear the fury of men and blades. The ground around him was stained with blood, bodies slumped where they had finally succumbed to their wounds. It would be decades before anything would be able to grow here again.  
Cold air blew across Skyfire, biting at the open wound on his torso. The axe had cut him open cleanly, sending his blood spilling to the earth to join everyone else's. Being a healer was dangerous, running across a battlefield and all, but he had honestly never expected to die because of it.  
_Ratchet is going to have his hands full now._ He could clearly picture the scowling medic’s face. Poor man. Good domestic healers were hard to come by during war.  
Skyfire closed his eyes again. He couldn't feel his hands or feet anymore. He was starting to get cold.  
_I hope Ratchet takes care of my garden. It be a shame if it died too. Maybe he'll send Wheeljack to care for it._  
The sounds of battle were getting softer, though if it was because it was moving away or his hearing was failing he couldn't tell. He couldn't feel his legs or arms anymore. His last moments replayed in his mind. Sewing up a gash in someone's chest. Hearing someone charge at him. Picking up his patient’s dropped sword to defend them. Slicing deep into the bicep. Burning pain.  
_I wonder if he is dying too._  
Skyfire tried to open his eyes to look around, but they wouldn't comply. Breathing was becoming a challenge.  
_I suppose this is it then._  
The wind blew again, but it was warm this time. It blew in consistent bursts, growing stronger with each subsequent one. Skyfire frowned and fought to open his eyes. There was light shining above him growing steadily brighter as he watched. Something was in the light, coming closer towards him. He could see a human shape but something didn't seem right. His strength started to return to him as the figure came closer. The wind was deafening now, the light receding to reveal the figure within. Skyfire gaped.  
The figure was dressed in silvery-white armor, a shield of the same material strapped to his left arm. Two perfectly white wings stretched out behind him, the span longer than he was tall.  
The figure dropped to one knee beside Skyfire and removed his helmet. Skyfire’s mouth went completely dry.  
_What sculptor carved such perfect a face?_  
The man smiled softly, lighting up his eyes. Skyfire found himself unable to look away even as he reached and placed a hand over Skyfire’s wound. Skyfire hissed as the flesh stitched itself back together.  
“I apologize for the discomfort.”  
Skyfire nodded, looking back into his eyes. They were the most beautiful shade of light blue. They looked up from Skyfire’s wound and an eyebrow rose.  
“Who… who are you?”  
The man chuckled. “My name is Silverbolt.”  
“Silverbolt.” Skyfire repeated. Silverbolt’s wings ruffled lightly in response. They looked so soft.  
“Am I dead?”  
Silverbolt nodded, inspecting the skin that now inhabited the space where his wound once was. “You don't seem to mind that much.”  
_Not when dying means seeing you._ “I work with the ill and dying. It is a fact of life.”  
Silverbolt turned his whole body to look at Skyfire. “You don't realize what I am do you?”  
“What you are? You're an angel aren't you?”  
Silverbolt sighed. “Something like that.” He stood in a fluid motion and offered his hand. “Come, Skyfire.”  
Skyfire took the hand and grasped it firmly. Silverbolt lifted him as if he weighed no more than an empty sack. The light returned and enveloped them, and Skyfire felt very light for several seconds before the light, and Silverbolt, were gone.  
Skyfire frowned, looking at his new surroundings. He stood on a plain dirt road surrounded on both sides by firs. He touched his stomach lightly. The skin there was tender, but healed and covered with a new tunic.  
“Silverbolt!” he called, hoping he was nearby. When he received no reply he sighed and headed up the trail, hoping to come across him along the road.  
At the top of the hill Skyfire found a long wooden building, which on closer inspection was a great hall. Skyfire stared at it, listening to the shouts from inside. He crept closer, opening the door a bit and peeking his head inside. As he suspected, there were tables and benches lined from one side of the hall to the other. The benches were packed with warriors shouting and drinking. Women carried drinks around on trays and served them as the warriors emptied the ones they had.  
_Where am I?_  
Skyfire started to back out when one of the serving ladies spotted him. She laughed and sat down her tray, crossing the room and grabbing his hands.  
“Come, come! Enjoy yourself warrior, you have earned your stay here!”  
“Warrior?”  
The lady nodded. “Of course! The Valkyrie have brought you here!”  
_Valkyrie… Silverbolt…_  
A mug was thrust into his hands and he was sat on a bench between two warriors. Thankfully he had always been large in size, or else being around so many warriors would have been more intimidating than it already was.  
“Drink friend!” One of them shouted, clearly inebriated. He grabbed Skyfire’s mug and lifted it to Skyfire’s mouth, forcing him to drink as he tipped it back. Another mug was thrust into his hands, and he was commanded to drink again. Skyfire’s face scrunched up as he took a sip. He didn't care much for mead, especially not this strong. Thankfully the two warriors were now preoccupied with other things, so Skyfire set his mug down and dashed for the door. He sat on the ground a ways down the path, thankful for the cool grass. The hall had been sweltering.  
“Not much one for drinking?”  
Skyfire looked up at the melodious voice. Silverbolt was out of his armor and wore a pair of simple gray pants and boots. Skyfire forced himself to look at the ground. He had always heard Valkyrie were supposed to be beautiful, but damn.  
“Not really. I don't much care for the taste.”  
“Hm. I do not either.”  
Silverbolt sat beside him, his wings curling around his body. Skyfire stared at him. He seemed to glow in the moonlight.  
“You may touch them if you wish.” Silverbolt whispered, closing his eyes and turning his face to the sky. He stretched out a wing in invitation. .  
Skyfire rose a trembling hand, gently touching the white feathers. They were softer than anything he had felt before. Each feather passed smoothly through his fingers as they ran through the wing. His eyes travelled from the wing to the body it was attached to. Silverbolt was not overly built, but there was definitely muscle there. He quickly dropped his hand and faced forward.  
“Why am I here?” Skyfire asked.  
Silverbolt tilted his head to the side, not opening his eyes. “What do you mean?”  
Skyfire bit his lip. “You are a Valkyrie yes? And this,” he gestured with his hand. “is the warrior’s paradise?”  
“Yes.”  
“But,” Skyfire paused. Silverbolt opened one eye and looked at him. “But I am not a warrior.”  
“Not a warrior?” Silverbolt frowned as he turned to stare at Skyfire. “Do you not put yourself at the frontline of battle? Do you not protect you fellows at the risk of your own life? Do you not fight for your homeland and ideals? Do you not take it upon yourself to return sons, fathers, brothers to their homes?”  
“But I do not fight. I do not take up arms.”  
“A warrior is more than his weapon. A warrior is determined by his ideals and values, by what he chooses to fight for. As a healer you fight against death, the greatest of opponents.”  
Skyfire watched Silverbolt as he turned his face back to the sky. “I suppose if you put it that way.” he mumbled.  
Silverbolt was silent for a minute before he spoke again. “Come with me.”  
Silverbolt stood, pulling Skyfire up with him. He gripped his wrist tightly as he led him through the trees, seeming to follow a path only he saw. Skyfire looked around nervously, unable to see anything but feeling eyes follow him. The trees came to a sudden stop and revealed a small circular bunkhouse. Silverbolt continued to lead him to the door, knocking once before entering and pulling Skyfire with him. A large hole in the roof let light from outside come in and fill the space. Six doors led to other areas, most likely the bed chambers. Another Valkyrie lie beside the fire burning in the center of the room whistling. He looked up when the door opened and smiled widely.  
“Hi Bolt! Who's that?”  
Silverbolt laughed softly. “This is Skyfire. Skyfire,” he turned to look at him and gestured to the other Valkyrie. “this is my brother Fireflight.”  
Fireflight jumped to his feet, wings beating against his back to keep him from losing his balance. “Hi Skyfire! How're you doing? Are you liking it here?”  
“It's, ah, not bad here.” Skyfire bluffed. _How am I doing? I'm dead and confused as to why I'm here._  
“That's good! Hm,” Fireflight drew closer, eyes narrowed as he looked Skyfire over. “You don't look like the other warriors.”  
“Um,”  
“He's a healer Fireflight.” Silverbolt explained. Fireflight perked up instantly.  
“Wow, really? That's cool! We don't have many healers here. You must be something special for Bolt to bring you up here!”  
“Fireflight,” Silverbolt interrupted. “Why don't you go and make sure Slings hasn't started a fight with anyone yet?”  
“Okay!” Fireflight went back to whistling as he jogged out of the building. Once he was gone, Silverbolt turned to Skyfire with a sheepish grin.  
“Sorry. He's very excitable.”  
Skyfire shook his head. “It's no problem. He seems very easy to get along with at least.”  
“Something like that.” Silverbolt crossed the room to one of the doors. Skyfire couldn't help but stare at him. His wings fluttered and twitched, muscles moving under his skin, as if they were eager to move.  
“Aren’t you coming?” Silverbolt called over his shoulder. Skyfire stumbled forward, feeling his face heat up. Silverbolt grinned as Skyfire drew up beside him, opening the door and stepping out of the way to let Skyfire through. Skyfire walked through the door warily, but quickly stopped in his tracks.  
“It’s… beautiful.”  
The door had led them back outside into a vast garden. Rows upon rows of various plants stretched out before him, some he didn’t even recognize. He stepped forward, eyes wide as he tried to take everything in.  
“While they are obviously not fatal, it is still possible to get injured here. Warriors and all that. I grow herbs to treat their wounds.” Silverbolt spoke.  
Skyfire nodded, bending down to observe a bush covered in clusters of blue blooms. “And the ones that have no medicinal purpose?”  
Silverbolt ducked his head. “I, ah,” he scratched the back of his head. “I like gardening.”  
_That’s adorable._ Skyfire smiled and stood back up. “You're obviously good at it.” He cocked his head to the side, walking through the plants. Was that… “You grow Frost Bells?”  
“Yeah. They're hard to care for, but I like them. They're pretty.”  
“Pretty… these are almost impossible to find. You have to go high into the mountains for them.” Skyfire gently ran his thumb over one of the bell-shaped flowers. “I’ve saved so many lives with these. The only plant that can cure frostbite.”  
“You know how to use them?”  
Skyfire nodded and turned to look at Silverbolt, who wore an impressed look. “Yeah. It took years to figure out how.”  
Silverbolt smiled widely. “Fireflight was right. You are something special.” He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Skyfire’s. Skyfire sighed into the kiss, one hand burying itself into the feathers of a wing.  
“I'm so confused. I still don't quite understand why I'm here. And is this even allowed?” Skyfire breathed.  
“Even if it wasn't I still would do it.” Silverbolt pulled him back into another kiss. “And in time, all things will make sense. Trust in me.”  
“Aww!”  
They jumped apart, looking guiltily at Fireflight standing in the doorway.  
Fireflight giggled. “Is he gonna be staying with us then?”  
Silverbolt looked to Skyfire. “I’d like him too.”  
Skyfire blushed. “I would like that as well. You can show me the rest of your garden.”  
Silverbolt laughed. “Only if you promise to help me care for it.”  
Skyfire pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I look forward to it.”


End file.
